


Your Arms Feel like Home

by karrenia_rune



Category: La Bamba (1989)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, First In The Fandom, Grief, Near Future, mentioned death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 11:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13951002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune





	Your Arms Feel like Home

Disclaimer: La Bamba (1989) belongs to its producers and directors as do the characters mentioned here; they are not mine.

 

"Your Arms Feel like Home" by Karrenia

 

He's drawn into the kitchen by the fondly remembered aroma of baking empanadas and something his mother only makes whenever she's feeling sad or nostalgic, which he assumes is true for both of them. 

As he gets closer and stands lingering half-in and half out of the doorway, is true. It's been three months since official word gave from the record label of the plane crash that had taken the bright light that was Richie and his manager.

At the time; once the initial shock wore off and they'd allowed working through the stages of grief.

However, as different as they might have been from each other, and as much as he often resented how easy everything always seemed to be for Richie Valens; he was his brother and he had a promise a long time ago that he would always be there, always stand up for him; protect from everything. 

He'd done that so what is it that he's supposed to do now? 

"Bobby, don't be a stranger, either come in out or stay out?" his mother Connie calls out to him.

"Si, momma," Bob replies coming forward and taking a seat at one of the stools lined up neatly against the counter.

And, it is if she can read his mind, but he supposes mothers are could at that sort of thing, especially his mother. "Here, take this dough and layout on the paper towel into even disks and then when you're done with you can work on the next one."

"I got it," he replies testily.

"Well, then, the next step is to knead carefully, and for be sure not to overwork it. I'll work on the filling."

At first, Bob was worried that his disk wasn't even but his mother assured him that it was fine. It was just them and that she had invited Donna and her family for dinner and if he could go preheat the oven to '375 degrees. 

"Like this?" he asks.

She takes his hands and the touch is warm and comforting, and Connie offers her older son a reassuring smile that is meant to convey love and understanding. And Bob tries to do the same only his much shakier.

He starts to shake and the anger that he does not even know that he's been bottling up inside of him causes him to ball his hands against the legs of his jeans. "I should have stopped him. Should have known what would happen!"

"Stop, Roberto, just stop. It's not your fault, and it's not even Ritchie's fault."

"NO! No, then whose fault is it then?" he retorts.

Connie is attempting to comfort him, to ease through their pain; a shared pain, but it only goes as far as he's willing to let it in.

***

Hours later the company arrives and as it seems customary, there are pictures of Ritchie all over the place taking pride of place. It's not a funeral for that they had months ago, it's more a chance to reunite and share memories. There's more food and drink, and he's glad that all of the ladies get together to help cook, and serve, and gossip over glasses of white wine.

The men gather in the den and drink beer and watch football and the evening winds on towards midnight and everyone has gone home. 

He's tired and it feels like a bone-deep ache that he isn't sure will ever truly go away.

***  
Bob and Donna are out the porch sitting together and he's nursing a beer. Donna has her arm around his shoulders. "Look up there! It's said that on a clear day you can see forever."

"The stars? 

"Yeah, the stars. I've been taking comparative mythology in school and you know what?"

"What?"

"That almost every human tradition has a similar legend that when someone dies that sometimes their souls, spirit; whatever you want to call it; goes on to join the other heroes in the starts. Isn't that a wonderfully romantic idea?"

"Wouldn't it get crowded up there?"

"Bob, are you even listening to me?" Donna gripes.

"Of course, I'll always listen to you."

"Well, tough guy," she says mock-sternly and mock-seriously, adding, "If that's true then why have you been so distant lately. And trust me, I'm not the only one that's noticed."

"I, I 've just been going through a lot lately."

"A dime for your thoughts," Donna offers.

"If I'm not mistaken, the expression is a penny.." however he is unable to finish his correction as Donna strides forward and cuts off the words with a long lingering kiss and for a heartbeat, he is taken aback. For the thing of it is it, he's startled by how bold it is.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

"As if you have to ask? Let's go to your room."

Bob decides that this is an excellent idea and picks Donna up and carries her into the house through the back door and into his room.

He sets her down on the bed and she kicks off her left shoe and he gets closer to remove the right one, noticing as he does so that her pantyhose have a run in them in a rather suggestive place and his fingers run up to them and he slowly helps slide them down her shapely legs.

"We really doing this?" he asks. "We don't have to, if you don't want to, Donna."

"We're doing this and I brought protection," replies Donna.

"Well, uh, that's good then."

With one article of clothing removed then comes the underwear, bras, and panties, and he lies down beside her. He kicks off his boots, and Donna insists on removing his jeans, fumbling a bit with the belt buckle, but tosses that aside where it lands on the floor among other discarded clothing. 

"God, te amo, Donna!" Te amo!"

"I Love you!" I think I always have."

She initiates the first kiss, not as bold as the one she'd greeted with him tonight, but still hot and he returns them eagerly. Caught up in the moment, all the doubts, the pain, and the uncertainty are washed away, as they bring their two bodies together and the moonlit filtering in through the windows and the blinds silver their two souls in white light and Bob thinks of the stars in the sky. 

"Do you think you could whisper sweet nothings to me in Spanish? I think I'd really like that," Donna says suddenly a tremulous smile playing about the corners of her lips.

Bob rolls over rolls his shoulders. "I don't know, but I can certainly try."

"It's a start," Donna replies.

"Of what?" he asks.

"Oh, I don't know, but why don't we discover what we have together?"


End file.
